


The Gift of Luck

by Alisanne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 16:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10540518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/pseuds/Alisanne
Summary: Just when Draco thinks his day can’t be any more unlucky, Potter shows up.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [capitu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/capitu/gifts).



> **Challenge:** Written for the 2017 HP_Getlucky. Prompt: S-3: Someone "cursed" Draco to get lucky. Of course that 'get lucky' involved being around Potter 24/7 so for now Draco's seeing it as a curse, but he eventually knows better.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended. 
> 
> **Notes:** Thanks to my beta readers, Sevfan and Emynn.

* * *

The Gift of Luck

* * *

_They met every year to decide who deserved the gift of special luck. It couldn’t be someone who was already lucky; they wouldn’t appreciate it, after all. No, it had to be someone who was down on their luck, someone who had lost a lot. And someone who needed the peace of good luck._

_Some argued for orphans, others argued for victims of the Dark professors, and still others for the staff who had suffered during the war. But when one small voice piped up, suggesting a name, the others stopped to listen, and in the end, they all agreed on who needed luck the most. When the time came, they cast the spell and watched to see what would happen._

* * *

Heart pounding, Draco sat up, a shout on his lips. It took him a moment, but when he realised he was alone and safe, he groaned, collapsing back into the bed. Staring up at the canopy, he exhaled, waiting for his heart to slow. 

“Sodding nightmares,” he whispered. In his mind’s eye he saw Vince dying again, and he shivered, pulling the covers back on top of his body. 

Draco closed his eyes, but he couldn’t relax enough to sleep, so, about twenty minutes later he huffed and, sitting up, Summoned an Arithmancy text from the base of his bed and started to read on Dupont’s Theorem. 

His head had just begun to nod when _something_ tingled against his skin. Startling awake, Draco looked around, but he was alone. He checked his bed wards, pursing his lips when he found them intact. 

Shaking his head at himself, Draco closed the book and, after a brief hesitation, Summoned a small phial. Checking it, he frowned upon realizing it was the last of his Dreamless Sleep. “Best make more tomorrow,” he muttered, downing it. 

And as he slid into sleep, Draco’s last act was to charm his wand to wake him in the morning for breakfast.

* * *

Stretching, Draco yawned. He felt oddly…rested. Sitting up, he cast a Tempus Charm, mouth falling open when he saw the time. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered, reaching for the closest clothes he could find at the bottom of the bed. “I’m late! Fuck!” 

Practically tripping over himself, he pulled on trousers and a random shirt, hoping they were clean, then, Summoning some robes, he threw them on and opened his curtains. 

The room was empty, of course, all the other eighth-year Slytherin boys having left already. Draco, unable to complain because he’d trained them to leave him alone, to not disturb him, scowled and fumbled for his wand. 

Cursing under his breath, Draco then raced for the door, bolting down the stairs and out of the dungeons. When he got to the Great Hall it was empty of students; he was just in time to see the food disappearing. 

“Shit,” he wheezed, hurrying in. He walked up to the first table, which happened to be Gryffindor, and grabbed the first thing he could reach, which was some toast and a platter of bacon. Making a quick bacon sandwich, he bit into it, moaning. 

Sitting, he also grabbed a cranberry muffin and a napkin in which to wrap it. 

“You, too?” someone asked from behind him. 

Mouth full of bacon and bread, Draco turned to see Potter standing there, looking bemused. And fit, damn him. “Mff,” he said. 

Potter’s lips curved upwards. “Sorry, I don’t speak bacon.” Then, moving past Draco, he made his own sandwich, poured a cup of tea, and snagged his own muffin, blueberry, which he also wrapped in a napkin. 

Then, straddling the bench to face Draco, he started eating. “The bacon in Slytherin is the same, I’m sure,” he said. “Why did you choose this table?” 

Draco tried to glare. “This was just the closest. And I didn’t want the food to disappear before I could get to it.” 

Potter nodded. “Makes sense.” He raised an eyebrow. “Looks like you slept in.”

Draco could feel himself blushing. “What business is it of yours?”

Potter shrugged. “It’s not. Although you are eating our food, so—”

Rolling his eyes, Draco snapped, “Fine, yes, I overslept. Happy?” 

“Not really.” Potter slipped his muffin into his pocket. Standing, he looked down at Draco. “The only way that would make me happy is if _I_ was the reason you overslept.” And, after dropping that Blast-Ended Skrewt of a comment, he winked and sauntered off. 

Staring after him, Draco shook his head. “I must have imagined that,” he muttered, slipping his muffin into his pocket and getting up to leave. No other explanation was possible. He couldn’t possibly have been flirting.

* * *

Draco’s luck took a turn for the worse after that. 

He rushed from the Great Hall into Potions, where Potter kept staring at him from across the room. It was so unnerving that Draco messed up the simple potion base he needed, and had to make it over. Which made him late for his next class.

Transfiguration was, happily, something at which he excelled, so he managed to relax a bit there, although, given the ubiquitous presence of Potter, who was still somehow staring at him, Draco found himself tense by the end of the session. 

Next was Advanced Arithmancy, and when Draco walked in, only to find Potter there, he froze. Of course, the only open seat was beside him. 

Scowling, Draco sat. “What are you doing here?” he asked out of the corner of his mouth. “And why are you following me today?” 

Potter smiled. “It’s not that big a school, Malfoy. As for why I’m here, well, Hermione loves this class, so I wanted to see what all the fuss was about, so I asked if I could sit in. The professor said yes. I guess she likes me.” 

“Of course she does.” Draco huffed. Everyone loved Potter. “So, why aren’t you sitting with Granger?” 

Potter leaned closer. “Because she always sits in the front of every class, and that’s too much pressure for me.” He smirked. “I like it back here where things are more…relaxed.” His smirk widened. “Where, you know, the reprobates hang out.” 

Draco gaped at him. “Did you just call me—?”

“Is there something you’d care to share with the entire class, gentlemen?” Professor Harvey asked. 

Clearing his throat, Draco shook his head and looked down at his desk. After a moment, Harvey resumed her lecture, and Draco glanced over at Potter, hissing, “You called me a reprobate! How do you even know what means, much less—” 

“Relax, Malfoy, I was just teasing. You’re too uptight.” Potter raised an eyebrow. 

Draco blinked. Potter did sound like he was teasing, but that was, well, impossible. Wasn’t it? They didn’t _tease_ , they were sworn enemies. Except, Potter was looking at him with a mischievous light in his eyes, and the war was over, and he’d won, only he wasn’t lording it over Draco, he was being almost flirty…

“…care to comment, Mr Malfoy?” 

Draco licked his lips and coughed. “I’m sorry, Professor, I missed that.” 

“Clearly,” Professor Harvey said. She sighed. “Since you’re obviously distracted, perhaps you should leave the class and work on clarifying your priorities.” She narrowed her eyes. “One would think that someone in your position, who did the things you did during the war, would want to concentrate and make something of your education instead of making the rest of us uncomfortable. After all, you’re not going to make it just on your family name, are you?” 

Humiliated, Draco shook his head. “No, Professor. But I—”

“Get out now, Mr Malfoy.” Harvey crossed her arms. 

Swallowing hard, Draco nodded curtly and began gathering his things. When Potter stood with him, he froze. “What are you doing?” he whispered. 

Potter shrugged. “Leaving with you.” 

“You’re more than welcome to stay, Harry.” Professor Harvey smiled at him. 

Potter smiled back, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “No thanks. I did some things in the war I’m not proud of, and I’d hate to make anyone…uncomfortable.” 

And, with everyone in the class whispering, and Professor Harvey speechless, Potter took Draco’s arm and steered him out of the room.

“Are you all right?” Potter asked once they were in the hallway.

Draco wasn’t sure. He stared at Potter. “What…why did you say that to her?”

Potter shrugged. “Because it needed to be said.” 

Groaning, Draco shook his head. “She’ll never let me back into that class after that.” 

“Yes, she will.” Potter still had his hand on Draco’s elbow, and, suddenly conscious of that touch, Draco pulled away. 

“Not all of us have special privileges or things fall into our laps just because we wish it to be so, Potter!” Draco spat. 

Potter recoiled as if he’d been slapped. “You think things _fell into my lap_? That’s rich coming from you.” He shook his head and laughed darkly. “Not that you’ll believe me, Malfoy, but nothing has ever just fallen into my lap. And the only special privileges I’ve ever received is because some madman, who your family supported I may add, was trying to kill me!”

Draco exhaled a shaky breath as the words fell on him like hammer blows. “You’re right,” he muttered dully, backing away from Potter. “I’m sure all your privileges have been earned. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“Wait, Malfoy! I’m sor—”

But Draco wasn’t about to listen to anyone just then. He raced down the hall, ducking down an attached hallway. Potter was fast, but no one knew the dungeons like Draco, and he soon lost him. 

Once he was sure there was no chance of Potter locating him, Draco sank to the ground, panting. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to go home, curl up in a ball, and go to sleep. What was the use of continuing an education? No one would ever trust him. All anyone would see when they looked at him was a failed Death Eater.

Draco had no idea how long he sat there, but when the floor began to get cold, he stood up, dusted himself off, and cast a Tempus Charm. 

“Fuck lunch,” he muttered. “I’m not in the mood.” 

Scowling, he started off for Slytherin. When he rounded the corner, however, he came to a stop. Potter was there, waiting by the entrance to Slytherin. Above him on the wall, the Slytherin portraits were all staring suspiciously down at him. 

“Malfoy.” 

Draco sighed. “What do you want now, Potter? Is seeing me kicked out of Arithmancy not enough for you today?” 

“I didn’t want that to happen.” Potter bit his lip, moving closer. “Look, I had a talk with Professor Harvey. She’s expecting you back in class tomorrow.” 

Draco stiffened. “I don’t need your pity, Potter!” 

Potter groaned. “Bloody hell but you’re a prickly git! I’m trying to help you.” 

Draco crossed his arms. “Why?” 

“I—” Potter shook his head. “Look, I owe you, all right? You could have betrayed me when we were captive in the Manor, but you didn’t. You could have been a right git to me and my friends when you came back for eighth year, but you’ve been decent. I’ve even seen you helping out the firsties.” 

Draco, uncomfortable, shrugged. “Someone has to. Poor sods would probably get eaten by a staircase if someone didn’t mind them.”

Potter smiled faintly. “True. Anyway, you’ve been…different. I thought maybe—”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Yes?” 

“Maybe we could, I don’t know, be friends or something.” 

“Friends?” Draco blinked. “Why would you want—?”

Potter, within touching distance, made an abortive gesture towards Draco before pulling back. “Can’t you just trust that I do?” 

“I suppose.” Draco, watching Potter closely, saw something flash in his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he decided to take a stab in the dark. “Although, if all you want is to be friends, what’s with the flirting?” 

Potter’s shoulders slumped. “I went overboard, didn’t I? Look, I’m not great at flirting, but—”

“Wait,” Draco interrupted. “You really _were_ flirting?” 

“Yes.” Potter moved into Draco’s personal space. “The way you look at me sometimes…” He smiled. “Well, it makes me feel like you wouldn’t object to us being more than friends.” 

This was madness, maybe he was still asleep? Draco closed his eyes, trying to clear his head, but when Potter’s lips touched his, his head swam even more. 

Draco gasped, and Potter took immediate advantage, slipping his mouth into Draco’s and exploring thoroughly. Slowly, he walked Draco backwards until he was pressed against the wall, and Potter’s thigh was wedged between his legs. 

Someone whistled, and Draco tried to draw away from Potter, but his lips clung, and when he nibbled on Draco’s bottom lip before pulling back, Draco’s knees went weak. 

“Looks like Draco got lucky,” said someone, it sounded like Blaise. Other voices whooped and cheered. Before Draco could look and see who was there, however, the group entered Slytherin and he was once again alone in the hall with Potter. 

“Do you realise this will be all over the school by tonight?” he said. 

Potter smiled. “Do you care?” 

“I—” Draco exhaled. “I suppose not. Although I’m not the one with the reputation to uphold.” 

Potter made a rude noise. “That’s rubbish. Now, don’t you have every Wednesday afternoon off?” 

“How did you know—?” Draco raised an eyebrow. “Why, Potter, are you stalking me?” 

“Maybe.” Potter grinned. “I’d think you’d be used to it by now.”

Snorting, Draco shook his head. “Yes, I do have Wednesday afternoons free of classes. Why?” 

Potter took Draco’s hand. “I thought we could go for a walk by the lake. You know, ruin our reputations completely.” 

Draco looked down at his clothes. “I’m not really dressed for it.” 

“Oh, live a little.” Potter leaned in. “We’re wizards. I’m sure we can get rid of any…stains we may get.” He grinned wickedly.

Draco huffed, but allowed Potter to drag him along. “If you get grass stains on my trousers, Potter, I will ruin more than your reputation!” 

And as Potter just laughed and sped up, Draco thought that perhaps, his luck was looking up.

* * *

Draco, exhausted after his long day, woke from a deep sleep when his wand alarm went off. Sitting up, he fumbled for the sodding thing, turning it off. He cast a quiet Tempus, rolling his eyes when he saw the time. “I’m an idiot,” he muttered. 

“Why’s that?” Potter stretched and yawned. 

“I set my wand alarm for the wrong time. No wonder I was late for everything today.” Huffing, Draco reset his alarm, tucking the wand away again.

“Ah. I was going to ask if you had somewhere to be,” Potter said. He looked delectably rumpled lying there, and Draco, never that good at resisting temptation, leaned down and kissed him. 

Potter smiled against Draco’s lips, then, arching, rolled Draco over onto his back, straddling him. “Trying to distract me won’t make me forget the question,” he said. 

Draco smirked. “Did you ask a question?” 

“Is there someplace you need to be right now?” 

Draco pretended to think about it. “I suppose I could try and seduce another Gryffindor next. Now that I’ve finally made it into your dorm, it’s a great opportunity—”

“Arse,” Potter growled, leaning down and kissing the breath out of Draco. As it turned out, Potter had some possessive tendencies, not a problem as far as Draco was concerned. “If you think I’m letting you out of my bed anytime soon—”

Draco hummed in pleasure, as Potter once again staked his claim. This really had been his lucky day.

* * *

Once the Chosen One and the Lucky One were asleep, Tippy snuck in, gathering their clothes for cleaning. She knew they would both need to sleep in, so she adjusted the alarm charms on their wands, then, muttering to herself, she appeared in the laundry with their clothes. 

“So?” asked Lippy. “Did it work?” 

Tippy nodded. “They is content. The luck spell once again brings peace.”

* * *

Fin


End file.
